This Time
by Buckingham
Summary: LukaAbby Oneshot. Post 'I Do.' A late night conversation about friendship, past mistakes, and the new ER Chief's lateness policy.


Title: This Time

Author: Buckingham

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A/N: Haven't done this in a while – let me know how I did.

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The only light comes from a small table lamp on her dresser, the one with the red shade, so the darkness of the room seems rosy and golden, like something from a Renaissance painting. With only their ragged breathing and the rustling of sheets as the room's soundtrack, she thinks the silence may be golden too. They've always done well with quiet, been comfortable with not saying a word. She wonders if it will be any different this time, if there's even a 'this time' to be different in the first place.

A pillow away, Luka turns his sweaty head, and smiles. She watches his chest as it rises and falls, and tries to think of something to say. He seems content to wait her out, looking positively indulgent spread out across her bed, all messy hair and sleepy eyes.

"Well, that was…" she finally manages. She waves her hand in the air, struggling for the appropriate word.

Luka raises an eyebrow, looking adorably smug and pleased with himself.

"Nice?" he supplies helpfully.

She feels herself blushing, remembering her admission after their last, unexpected encounter.

"I think we can safely say that it was something beyond nice."

He nods, smiling a little goofily. He's been doing that a lot lately, she realizes, which is strange since she's always considered him the epitome of tall, dark, handsome and brooding. It's always felt like some kind of magic trick to get him to grin like this, and she wishes that she understood the secret behind it, how to pull it off at will. His smile tightens slightly, making him seem a little nervous, and she watches as he rearranges the blankets at his waist.

"Not exactly friendly though," he says quietly.

He's watching her out of the corner of his eye, trying to be discreet about it, but she knows that it's an attempt to gauge her reaction.

"Are you kidding?" she asks, deadpan. "Neela and I do this all the time."

Luka snorts, a strangely sexy sound.

"In fact," she continues. "Since you and Clemente are trying so hard to bury the hatchet these days, maybe you two should—"

"Abby, please," he laughs. "Don't even joke about that."

He reaches for her hand, bringing it up to his mouth. He kisses her knuckles, one by one, and rubs her palm against his cheek. She loves the prickly feel of his stubble against her hand, the way it seems to spark against her skin. She's missed this more than she ever realized – the way that he smells, tastes, feels, the way that he looks at her, touches her. When they lay together in silence again, holding hands and breathing in synch, she feels a strange sense of gratitude that she can't articulate.

Outside, the sky looks black and lonely, with only the sickly moon to keep it company. She watches it through the window, pressing herself against the warmth of Luka's body.

"It's so quiet," she says. "I know it's the middle of the night but I'm always surprised by how quiet the city can get. Like it's deserted or something."

Luka murmurs in agreement, sounding slow and drowsy. She closes her eyes, figuring conversation a lost cause, and chases sleep herself. His fingers slowly trail up and down her spine, though, refusing to let her go that easily.

"When we first spilt up," he says, tentatively. "I used to think that if we'd just been able to shut the rest of the world out, we'd have been able to make things work…" His hand smoothes over her hip, twisting the sheet between his fingers. "There always seemed to be so many people between us."

She opens her eyes, feeling something in her stomach clench. He isn't wrong, she knows – her mother, Carter, his lost wife. There always seemed to be more than two people in their relationship, so that even when it should have been about them, there was always someone, lingering in the background. But that wasn't what broke them apart, she knows. Not really.

"But then I wasn't really being honest," continues Luka. "We were the real problem. I know that now."

She nods, not particularly enjoying this trip down memory lane. It would be so much easier if they could just sweep the past under the rug, pretend like it never happened. She hates how they hurt one another, even if it was never their intention. Luka turns on his side, so they're face to face. There is a serious, intense look in his eyes, like he's trying to memorize everything about her in this moment.

"I don't think I'm the same man I was then," he whispers. "I'd like to think that I've changed. That maybe we both have."

"I'd like to think so too."

She is embarrassed by the way her voice cracks, but it's too hard to keep the emotion out of it. Luka smiles, so lovely and wide, and it's suddenly impossible to feel anything but amazed. He kisses her with that beautiful smile, and she finds herself under him again, pinned to the bed by his warm, solid weight.

"Luka," she laughs, just as he starts to work his way down her neck. "I have to be at work in less than four hours. I need some sleep."

He lifts his head, breathing hard. The hair falling across his forehead makes him seem almost boyish, but there is no mistaking the devilish way that he grins.

"I know the ER Chief," he says. "He'll understand if you're a little late."

They laugh together in her messy bed, and she knows that she's ready to give in. She reaches up to kiss him, swallowing his laughter along with her own. She feels alive in a way that she hasn't for quite some time. She doesn't have to know exactly where this is going, not when Luka seems so happy, not when she feels that herself.

In the room's rose and gold darkness, he moves over her again, and for a moment it feels like they might be the only people left in the world. Outside the sun begins to rise, though neither of them notices.

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End file.
